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why not i ask you??? why shouldnt i??? is it a crime??

It was the house of darkness, the house of dumbness, the house of suffocation. Osmond’s beautiful mind gave it neither light nor air; Osmond’s beautiful mind, indeed, seemed to peep down from a small high window and mock at her.

this guy sucks😔😔

things are happening

It may be taking me months but it shan’t matter, victory will be mine

I’m not enjoying this at all

Roughly thirty people squat in this disused community centre in Willesden, North-West London. Among their number are students, eco-warriors, musicians, Australians, and grizzled anarchists.

It was like I was a zoo animal given its perfect habitat but electrocuted every time I got too comfortable as a reminder to perform for the crowd.

Sometimes the power I have to love her seems like the power to transform right into wrong, to turn night into day.

I was driven by the energy of despair, I had the feeling that if I didn’t read all the books in the world, if I didn’t know everything there was to know, I’d fail

D talked incessantly… she feels “evil”… “I’m from New England”

God, living is enormous!

this is so delightful

I am alive… I am beautiful… what else is there?

totallyyyy

We joked, ‘God is dead, Marx is dead, and I don’t feel so good either.’

We did not concern ourselves with what would happen next for the Pieds-Noirs and the Harkis in Algeria, or the Algerians in France. We hoped to go to Spain the following summer — a real bargain, according to everyone who’d been there.

Sometimes she’d compare herself to the fruits, and despising her external appearance, she’d eat herself internally, full of living juice as she was.

The potato was unsurpassed as food. She realized this, and it was a light hallelujah.

hahahahha. this book is so good. everything is an epiphany! you were born yesterday and you were born again today! the sky is blue! hallelujah!

that the taste of the fruit is in the contact of the fruit with the palate and not in the fruit itself.

Only the person herself can express to herself the inexpressible smell of raw fish—not in words: the only way of expressing it is to feel it once again.